(After Desdemona discussion, a fonder goodbye than anticipated even if corrected as to overly-naïve notions,) Cauren returns to the ship and takes the controls herself with nothing more than the desire to fly. No destination, no plans, no thinking- just motion. Singing along, feeling the sound of the music of time and space mingling in the spheres all around and in and beyond her, stars rushing and twinkling and spinning in their own dances as she flits the curtain of the velvet curtain of blacks and blues and boundless color they rest in like diamond, low and strong and sweet in her bones and high and melodic and Aeolian in her ears. And here, tangible, palpable Fate one can taste in the mouth with ambrosia sweetness and bloody bitter metal, it comes- the moment when she knew she'd never be the same again.
In those power chords, those endless and eternal lights and nights brighter than any planet's day, she found her place in the worlds tonight. Heart and soul, hand and bone, eye